A set of clippers, heavy like the hand of authority, like the pair your father used to use, like the ones they use on Marines, and sheep. White shorts...looks at black shorts. **** White briefs went first, and his hair dusts the floor. That left on his head forms a jet-black cap against the blue, blue of his eyes in his dark, darkface. He sits in the chair, working on black shorts' head. Black shorts sits onthe floor, his arms resting over the knees of his. She opened her pussy lips, spreading them so she could better inspect the bump that had made her quiver. Sunlight that made its way between the strands of hair, glistened on the moisture that her inspection had brought forth. She swiped at the beads, brought her finger to her nose and breathed in the aroma of herself. Her brows rose as she tried to distinguish what scent her pussy had. It was unlike anything she had ever known. It was pleasant, but could not be named by any other scent she’d. More

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